


streetlights

by drummerboy95



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, brief mentions of akaashi and kenma and aran, im sorry they kinda cry a lot here, kinda angsty i guess, not incest btw, pd101 au, sakuatsu and osasuna if squint really reallyyyy hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24679327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drummerboy95/pseuds/drummerboy95
Summary: Osamu thinks about dim streetlights that pales in comparison to the bright spotlights that that Atsumu stands in.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	streetlights

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [every lover in the form of stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556147) by [starstrikes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrikes/pseuds/starstrikes). 



> this work is really heavily inspired by starstricken's every lover in the form of stars, and essentially builds on the story (it's not a continuation, rather from osamu's pov), so if you haven't read starstricken's story you might feel a bit lost at the start. i wrote this only because i needed to have osamu's pov from that story (i felt so sad at the end of starstricken's fic because what-happen-to-osamu-in-the-end-i-need-to-know), so basically this is a very self-indulgent fic. my writing isn't that good but i tried my best (who am i kidding, i wrote this in three days because i'm in a rush but at the same time i'm a slow writer :') i tried). nevertheless i hope you at least enjoyed some part of this fic :)

“When are you going to tell Atsumu?” Suna frowns, coming to sit next to Osamu on the bottom bunk.

Osamu sighs, raking a hand through his silver hair. His dark roots were already showing, and he supposed sometime before the final showcase, the makeup artists would touch up his roots. His hair sticks up in odd angles, and his skin has an unhealthy pallor underneath the red flush from the remains of his fever. He’s still not feeling his best, but there is a shoot in an hour, and he needs to practice for the showcase with his team.

“I guess it’ll come up at some point.” Suna reaches over, gently squeezing Osamu’s shoulder.

“Just a few more weeks, alright?”

Osamu nods wearily.

Suna offers Osamu an unsure smile, pulling him up to prepare for the new day.

*

Osamu sits beside Atsumu at the patio outside the dorm building, pressing his shoulder into Atsumu’s. The smallest contact; it only offers a small reassurance for the news that he is going to break to Atsumu. The two of them sit silently side by side. Atsumu doesn’t speak; he simply knocks his shoulder into Osamu’s to acknowledge his presence. The air is thick with tension; but Osamu stares resolutely ahead into the distance. He feels more than sees Atsumu shoot a glance at his shirt.

Osamu counts to six. Counts to fourteen. He counts the distance between six and fourteen, and thinks about the metaphorical distance. He wonders if he spent the last five years pursuing the same dream as Atsumu, or playing catch-up, never quite closing the distance between them.

Osamu lets out an exhale.

“’Tsumu…”

As though sensing his dread, Atsumu frowns. He presses the back of his hand against Osamu’s forehead, checking for the remains of the fever that wracked his body earlier in the week.

Osamu’s heart leapt up to his throat. His throat swells, tightens. Whatever words that is supposed to come after lodges in his throat, and for a moment, he just wants to brush it off as nothing. Tell Atsumu that it is nothing; that he wants to congratulate him for placing six in the recent rankings, that they should go back to the dorms and rest. For a moment, he wants to take it all back, pretend that there’s nothing bothering him, pretend that he wasn’t going to part ways from Atsumu. He’s standing right at the crossroad, Atsumu just right ahead, a little out of reach, believing that his brother would catch right up—

“…I don’t want to be an idol anymore.” Osamu’s voice cracks.

Atsumu visibly flinches, his hand withdrawing from Osamu’s forehead. Osamu does not turn to meet his twin’s gaze.

“What?”

Osamu breathes out, trying to calm the heart hammering against his ribs. He finally looks at Atsumu wearily and grabs the shirt sleeve gathering around his wrist.

“I’m not happy, ‘Tsumu. I don’t want to keep doing this.”

“And you think I am? None of us are happy, Osamu. You can’t just—you can’t just quit.” Atsumu was heaving, his breath stuttering. Osamu sees the panic in his brother’s wide eyes. Or was it anger?

“Yes, I can.” Osamu turns to look back into the distance. “I’m so sick of doing nothing but dancing and singing every day and getting nothing out of it. I’m so sick of my measurement of time being how many months are between now and the next time I have to redye my hair. I’m so sick of hurting and being in pain all the time, ‘Tsumu.”

Osamu tugs on his shirt, the white sticker plastered on the front of his shirt, the number 14 and his name in blue lettering. He scrunches the number between his fingers.

“I’m not going to debut, ‘Tsumu. Don’t kid yourself. You’re smarter than that. They were always only going to debut one of us and it was always going to be you.” Atsumu is always the one meant to debut. Out of the four of them from INARI, Atsumu was, is, will be the one the company picks.

“What about me?”

Osamu freezes. He swallows, conflict written all over his face.

Atsumu grips Osamu’s hand. All Osamu can see now is Atsumu, the shithead twin brother he spent his entire life with, not Atsumu the idol—the flawless, cookie cutter persona carefully curated by INARI. He sees the weariness in Atsumu’s brown eyes, furrow between his brows. He sees ‘Tsumu, all flaws and inconsistencies underneath the character he spent the last five years polishing.

“I—” Osamu chokes, a small sob squeezing past his vocal cords. “’Tsumu, I don’t want to leave you.” He grips Atsumu’s shoulders, his body caving. “I don’t think I can stand to lose you, but I just can’t do this anymore, Atsumu.” Osamu sobs, one hand leaving Atsumu’s shoulder to clasp against his mouth, trying to swallow his grief back down.

Atsumu remains quiet, arms slack by his sides.

Osamu takes in a stuttering breath and releases his hold on Atsumu. “I can’t do this anymore, ‘Tsumu. It just ain’t what I want anymore. I know we started this together, this dream. But sometimes dreams are meant to stay dreams and not become reality, become nightmares.”

Osamu wipes his eyes dry and straightens. He sees Atsumu bites his lip, sees his twin brother try to hold himself together. They spent their childhood and teenage years chasing the same dream. They sought comfort in each other every time they face a setback. For the last five years, they were all each other had, because from the moment they stepped into the company, they knew how much they had to give up. He thinks about the times Atsumu crawled into his bed and curled around him; Osamu thinks about how Atsumu relies on him, in the same way he relies on Atsumu. He gave Atsumu’s hand a small squeeze.

“You were always willing to do more for the stage, Atsumu. You were willing to burn even if it ate you out from the inside as long as it meant that everybody could see you shining. But I’m sick of burning, Atsumu. I’m just—I’m just tired.”

Osamu gives his brother a tight smile and releases his grip on Atsumu’s hand. Knowing that Atsumu prefers to be alone to process it all, Osamu mutters a goodbye and an apology, before heading back into the building. When the door swings close behind him, he wipes his eyes discretely and gathers his bearings. Osamu walks back in the direction of his dorm room, turning sharply at a corner and spots Sakusa exiting the toilet.

“Hey Sakusa.”

“Miya.”

Osamu frowns at the name but shrugs it off. He nods to Sakusa as they pass each other.

“Wait.” Osamu calls out, prompting Sakusa to stop in his tracks.

“Could you—could you check on Atsumu? Please?” Osamu hastily tacks on the plea. He bites the inside of his cheek. “He’s at the patio outside the building.”

He sees Sakusa raising an eyebrow. His dark, piercing eyes traces the red around Osamu’s eyes.

“Why should I?”

“I told him I’m going to quit being an idol.” Osamu doesn’t know why he’s bracing himself for a sneer from Sakusa. Sakusa’s eyes does not leave his, seemingly boring into his soul.

“Alright.” Sakusa turns on his heels and leaves in the direction Osamu came from.

Osamu frowns. He still doesn’t see what Atsumu sees in Sakusa.

-

That night, Osamu hears Atsumu shuffle around the bottom bunk, before his silhouette peeks over the edge of the top bunk. It was a tight fit, not that it mattered; Osamu lifts the corner of his blanket and allows Atsumu to tuck himself close. Atsumu falls asleep almost instantaneously.

Osamu simply buries his face in his brother’s hair, murmuring apologies under his breath. He spends the next morning trying to hide his purpling eyebags with concealer.

*

“Osamu. The programme director told us to video-record a letter to you and Atsumu. Your mother and I decided to do it separately.” His father fiddles around with his fingers, as though pondering what he should say to his son. Osamu chuckles at the video; he could see the similarities between him and his father; their quiet and steadfast personality. Strangely enough, Atsumu is easily riled up despite them being identical.

“Your mother told me that it has been over 1900 days since you’ve left home, and 501 days since we last saw you in person. These 5 years hasn’t been easy, had it?

“I still remember the day you both packed and left for the dorms. Just a few days prior, you and Atsumu were fighting over the last cup of pudding. By the end of the week, the house was so quiet.

“Your mother and I, we’ve never really understood the lives of idol trainees. We don’t know your training schedules and the lessons that you did, and we don’t see the small progresses you make. But every time you come home, I see how you’ve become quieter, and more patient and enduring of your brother. You were so young and energetic before you joined the company, but you’ve mellowed out so much. I’m glad to see you taking care of Atsumu. I know we always ask you to take care of Atsumu, since you’re the older brother. Sometimes I feel that we give you too much responsibility for your brother, but we wanted to make sure that no matter what happens, you will always have each other.

“When we watched you and Atsumu on this programme during the past few weeks, it really feels bittersweet, you know? I feel apologetic for missing your growth while you’re away from home, but I’m also so proud to see my twin boys standing on the stage and giving their best efforts to chase their dreams.

“I hope you get to come home soon. Your mother and I, we miss you and Atsumu, you know? Your mother worries about you two a lot. You and your brother look skinnier than normal. Have you been eating and sleeping well? You look tired sometimes. I’ll always be proud of you, my oldest son, and regardless of the outcome, Mom and Dad will always support you. We’ll see you soon, Osamu. Love you.”

Osamu muffles a sob when the screen dims, hands flitting about his face to try and stem the tears running down his cheeks. He wonders if he should say anything back, since the cameras were still rolling, and _he should really be trying to gain support from the national producers_.

He thinks about Atsumu’s desperation and anger when he finally told his brother he doesn’t want to be an idol. He thinks about his mother’s concern and his father’s warm eyes; their unwavering support.

Osamu bites his tongue to stop himself from crying, standing up and quickly bowing to the staff as he hurriedly books out the studio.

When he watches the video aired the following week, he sees that his part of self-montage was cut off at his distraught expression at the end of his dad’s message. 

-

At the end of the week, Osamu had asked the hair stylist to trim his hair, cutting the silver bangs away, leaving a crop of silver-tipped black hair casually swept into a messy, bedhead fashion.

*

Osamu stretches his arms backstage, readying himself for his final performance. There was a sense of finality; the last performance he’ll give for this show, and perhaps the last performance he’ll have. He gathers with the rest of his group members, clapping each other on the back. Kita, who is in the same group as him, comes forward and claps Osamu on the shoulder in silent encouragement.

The last performance.

He gives Kita the biggest smile he ever shown during the entire competition.

-

Osamu reckons that was the best performance he has ever given in the five years.

*

“In tenth place, INARI Entertainment, Suna Rintarou! Congratulations.”

Screams erupt around them. Osamu hauls Suna into a tight hug, Suna’s arm sandwiched uncomfortably between them as Suna covers his face with a trembling hand. Tears well up in his yellow-green eyes.

“You made it, Rin, you made it…” Osamu murmured, running a hand through Suna’s hair. The rest of the trainees gathered around them, engulfing them in hugs and mussing up Suna’s hair. Osamu lets go of Suna after a while, but still presses close from all the trainees gathered around them. He gently straightens Suna’s hair and nudges him toward the main stage.

“This is Suna Rintarou, from INARI Entertainment.” Suna bows, briefly glancing up to contain his tears. “I’d like to thank all my national producers for putting their faith in me and giving me this precious opportunity. Thank you for all the producers, staff and mentors for helping me get to where I am, and not giving up on me. To my fellow trainees, thank you for the precious friendships and heartfelt memories over the past few months. I hope we all continue to fight for our dreams, and we’ll see each other on the stage once more. To my parents, and my company, thank you for your unwavering faith and support, for your vote of faith in letting me participate in this programme.”

Suna glances at the trainees, eyes wandering until they pin on Osamu.

“To my fellow trainees from INARI, thank you for coming on this incredible journey together.”

Osamu smiles and gives a small wave to Suna, who returns it with a small grin and tears. He bows and hands the microphone back to the representative.

The next few moments are filled with trepidation. There are only ten more slots for the debut line-up. Some of the trainees have already accepted the fact that they won’t be in the top eleven, Osamu included. 

Kageyama Tobio and Goshiki Tsutomu are announced as the ninth and eighth places respectively. and in seventh—

“In seventh place, congratulations, INARI Entertainment’s Miya Atsumu!”

Osamu sees his brother take a sharp inhale, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, before a grin overtakes his features. Bokuto throws himself at Atsumu, squeezing him in a tight embrace. Atsumu returns the gesture, before moving out of his grasp to hug Kita. He watches Atsumu move on toward Sakusa, who reaches for Atsumu in tandem, accepting the hug. He sees Atsumu glow, a fond smile on his face.

Atsumu comes up to Osamu last, and Osamu mirrors him, taking a step forward to meet his brother. Tears well up his eyes as he looks at Atsumu, porcelain-skinned and faded pink hair, and he holds his twin brother tightly.

“It’s you. It always was going to be you,” Osamu rasps, his tears dripping. He hurriedly wipes them away to prevent them staining Atsumu’s blazer. He feels Atsumu shudder and lean into his grasp.

“Thank you for coming along on this dream with me.” Atsumu whispers, pulling away from the hug. Osamu catches his hand.

It’s the last time they would stand on the same stage, and he feels a little afraid to let go; as though Atsumu will be a world apart once he crosses to the main stage. But Atsumu is always meant for the stardom, and Osamu isn’t. Osamu knows they can’t walk the same path together, but they’ll always be there for each other. They’ll find their footing again, together and separately in this world.

“For me, you shine the brightest.” Osamu says, softly squeezing Atsumu’s hand. Atsumu returns the gesture.

“Me too, you’re it for me, too.”

*

Osamu hitches his duffle bag higher on his shoulder, wincing at the dull ache that spreads down his back. He stands in front of his childhood house—the stout two-story house that he grew up in with Atsumu, the house he left behind when he moved into the company’s dorm—and inhales. Everything feels a bit smaller than he’s used to; he never got used to it despite coming home for short breaks. Osamu smiles a little forlornly at the thought, and proceeds to squeeze through the doorway, bags and all. 

“Osamu?”

Osamu glances up, taking in his mother’s petit profile. Had his mother always been so delicate? Osamu can’t quite recall—it’s been over a year since he last saw his mother in person. His mother always had a powerful, larger-than-life presence. Osamu supposes that she must have, having painstakingly raised a pair of rowdy twins to where they are now.

Osamu steps forward to meet his mother, who gently takes him into her arms. She pulls Osamu’s cap away as he tucks his tall, bulky frame into his mother’s embrace, pressing his face into her shoulder.

_Ah, I really missed her_. As his mother pats his head and greets him, Osamu could only think about how tired he is, and how glad he is to be home. His conversation with his brother flashed through his mind.

“…Mom...” Osamu whispered, “I’m home.”

“Welcome home, Osamu.”

*

As promised, Atsumu comes home a few days later, once the company has settled their debut matters. Atsumu comes tumbling through the genkan, squeezing his way through the doorway in a similar fashion as Osamu did. He kicks his shoes off haphazardly, nearly tripping over them in his haste to get into the house. Their mother pokes her head out of the kitchen, and upon seeing Atsumu, she bustles out to welcome him home. Atsumu grins widely, dropping his bag to give their mother a hug. Their mother pats his head lovingly, her hand lingering on the faded pink strands. Osamu hears their mother’s amused smile rather than sees it, knowing that their mother is probably teasing Atsumu about his hair. Osamu lingers in the living room, watching Atsumu disentangle himself from the hug.

“’Samu,” Atsumu said with a small smile, which Osamu returns. He grabs Atsumu’s bag and claps him on the back, ushering him back to their shared bedroom.

-

“Did ya tell Mom?” Atsumu sat on the floor of their bedroom after dinner, futon spread next to Osamu’s bed. Their parents didn’t replace their old bunk beds, but when Atsumu was rewarded with a loud creak after attempting to sprawl on the top bunk, they decided it wasn’t worth the risk to sleep on the top bunk.

Osamu lies on his back and stares at the bottom of the top bunk. He hums an affirmation.

*

“I don’t want to be an idol anymore.”

Osamu muttered, avoiding his mother’s eyes. The both of them sat on the couch, Osamu tucking his feet underneath him. His mother sits silently, registering his words. Osamu is overcome with a sense of déjà vu—it feels as though he was back at the patio, announcing his decision to his brother. Saying it to his mother brought about a sense of finality, and the fact that he was unable to debut despite his efforts and the utmost support from his family filled him with regret. The regret sits uncomfortably heavy on his chest, and Osamu scrunches his pants tightly under his fist, willing himself to breathe despite the tightness of his chest. Yet again, he wishes he could retract his words, tell his mother that he won’t disappoint her, he’ll continue to work hard—

“I know.”

His mouth shuts with an audible click, his eyes darting up to his mother’s.

“If it wasn’t for Atsumu, you might not have made the decision to be an idol.”

“It wasn’t entirely—”

“I know, Osamu, but Atsumu was always the one who pushed you a little harder, wasn’t he? The both of you were always together, chasing the same dreams. I don’t think either of you have thought about yourself without the other.”

Sometimes it is difficult to know where one twin starts and the other ends. Wherever Atsumu is, Osamu would be right beside him. It becomes difficult to see how they are different beneath all the similarities; occasionally, even Osamu didn’t know which decisions are his, and which decisions are Atsumu’s (Atsumu likes to joke about twin telepathy, Osamu just thinks Atsumu talks too much, and Osamu is just unfortunately receptive). Having shared his entire life with his twin, Osamu doesn’t really know where he’ll go without Atsumu.

( _He thinks about Atsumu’s face after he revealed his decision. The brown eyes that widen; the shock that overtakes his features; the ragged breath as he tried to make Osamu take back his words._

_He supposed Atsumu doesn’t really know where he’ll go without Osamu_.)

His mother gave him a small smile, hand reaching over to smooth his cropped black hair.

“It’s okay if the path you take leads you to a different future from Atsumu. Your dad and I, we’ll support you no matter where you choose to go in the end, alright? It doesn’t matter whether you chose to be an idol, or you decide to do a 9-5 job. We just want you to be happy and satisfied with the path you choose in the end.”

Osamu takes in a shuddering breath, leaning forward as his mother brought him into a hug. “Mom, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry—”

His mother hushes him, patting his shoulder. “It pains me more when I see you hurting. No matter what your decision is in the end, you’ll always be my pride, Osamu. Here, why don’t you go clean up a little, and come help me prepare lunch?”

*

Atsumu is scheduled to move his belongings to the new dormitory three days after he visited home. Osamu is given a one-week break by his company, and he offers to drop Atsumu and Suna at the entertainment company in charge of their new group. He catches up with Suna as he drives, Atsumu sitting quietly in the backseat. Osamu helps them unload their luggage once they reached their destination and follows them to the back entrance of the building.

“Take care, ‘Tsumu, Rin. Keep in contact, alright?” Osamu smiles as he prepares to take his leave. Suna nods, tugging Osamu into a hug.

“I’ll miss you. When we get a break in our schedule, I’ll visit you and Kita-san.” Suna promises. He glances back at Atsumu, who is staring at his luggage, his mouth twisting into a frown. “I’ll go in first.”

“Yeah,” Osamu nods. “See you soon, text me when you can.”

Osamu watches Suna enter the building, throwing a salute back at them. He turns around to face Atsumu, who lingers behind.

“…’Tsumu,” Osamu starts, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

“I know, ‘Samu,” Atsumu sighs. “I’m just tryin’ to come to terms with it.”

Osamu knows it’s the first time that they are going to be apart for a long while. Even during the survival show, he sees Atsumu around the training building despite being in different groups. He sees him in the dorms, during meal breaks, and occasional late-night practice sessions.

_Ah, I’m really not going to see him in dorms, at meal breaks or practices anymore, am I,_ Osamu thinks.

“You’ll do fine, ‘Tsumu. It’s not like I won’t be around at all. In any case, it’s good riddance, I’m relinquishing my responsibilities over you to your team.”

“Shut up,” Atsumu snorts, leaning against his brother. “Ya ain’t the boss of me.”

“Sakusa will replace me, I’m putting him on baby-sitting duty.” Osamu grins, wincing as Atsumu throws a punch at his shoulder. A red flush creeps up Atsumu’s ears, and Atsumu gives a little whine.

Osamu holds Atsumu close, tucking his chin over his brother’s shoulder. “You did it, ‘Tsumu,” he whispered, rubbing Atsumu’s back tenderly. “You really did it.”

“…You’re not replaceable,” Atsumu mumbles back, and Osamu feels him press his face into his shoulder. The words _I will miss you_ hangs unsaid between them.

“’Tsumu, ’m really sorry—”

“Don’t be.” Atsumu cuts him off and pulls away. “I’ll debut for you too.”

Osamu chuckles, nodding in agreement. He ushers Atsumu toward the entrance. 

“Okay, ya need to go in soon. Text me regularly! Don’t make me contact Sakusa—”

“Alright, alright ya asshat, stop that.”

*

Osamu pulls out a thick notebook and dug around for a pen in his locker before leaving for a private studio that he booked. He settles in front of the keyboard with his notebook propped on the piano stand, connecting his earphones to his phone. A soft melody plays, and Osamu sits back as he picks apart the chords, the melody, the strong vocals. Osamu rewinds the audio and curls his fingers over the keyboard, pressing chords after chords as he goes along with the music. By the end of the first hour, he has the chords noted down in his notebook, fingers chasing arpeggios across the keyboard as he sang the lyrics softly. His singing has definitely improved from the intense training during the survival programme.

But he thinks about how Atsumu used to sit next to him, singing along to whatever Osamu decides to play on the piano.

“Haiiro to ao? Didn’t peg you as a Kenshi Yonezu fan, Osamu.”

Osamu blinks, finally noticing Kita at the doorway.

“Kita-san.”

Kita smiles, nodding a greeting and coming over to sit next to him.

“What are you doing here? There’s still a few days of break.”

Osamu shrugs. “Could say the same for ya, senpai.”

“I came to talk to the management…” Kita responds, his eyes watching Osamu carefully. “They are considering debuting me as a soloist.”

Osamu meets his eyes in surprise. Kita had gathered a huge fanbase through the programme; he supposes that the company was planning to leverage on Kita’s popularity, on top of his talent. Kita excels in ballad performances, his voice thick with emotion and often tear-inducing, which Osamu has the privilege of experiencing first-hand (The INARI trainees theorise that Kita’s stoic, default expression came about as a result of channelling all his emotions into singing, and Osamu agrees). But upon joining the competition, Kita had to adapt to singing upbeat pop songs and was even assigned a rap role in the final showcase, which the fans loved.

“…a ballad artist?”

Kita shakes his head. “Mainstream pop, probably. I spoke to the management about debuting as a ballad artist, but it seems that ballad doesn’t gain as much hype as mainstream pop or hip hop.”

Osamu hums, his mind abuzz about what they all give up in exchange for everything they want. He offers a word of congratulations, nonetheless.

*

Osamu stays in the company until his contract ends. He attends his usual vocal, dance and music composition sessions with his mentors, continues to learn a third language (Chinese; every lesson leaves Osamu reeling from the number of characters he needed to memorise—and they said it would be _easy_ because it looks like kanji!), hangs out with Kita and Kosaku, a trainee who joined the company through dance. His mentors congratulate him for his performance on the survival show when he returns for his classes. Some of them ask about Atsumu’s and Suna’s progress in the new boy group. Osamu does not mention about the occasional texts from Atsumu that wax poetic about a certain _Omi-omi_ , nor does he talk about the calls he has had into the wee hours of the morning with Rin.

Osamu finds himself talking to one of the external dance instructors hired in his company, Aran, who, upon knowing that Osamu is ending his contract with INARI, invites him to his dance studio for a dance-battle with a few other experienced dancers on a weekend.

*

After ending his contract, Osamu attends dance classes at Aran’s studio for a while, before Aran offered him a position as an assistant dance teacher, letting him help out in classes and demonstrations. He takes to his job like a duck to water, grateful for the many hours spent polishing his dance skills back when he was still with INARI Entertainment. Aran gives him the opportunity to choreograph and conduct his own class, and even though the turn out for the class was smaller than the usual, the response on YouTube was overwhelming. Osamu received compliments for his choreography ( _and his body; he shudders as he recalls several thirst comments on YouTube about his thighs_ ) but was glad that his subsequent classes had more students. Suna screenshots several of the thirst comments from the different choreography videos and sends it in their group chat with Kita and Atsumu, and it is closely followed by an “ew” from Atsumu, along with a selfie of Atsumu and Suna pretending to gag. Osamu thinks he sees Sakusa at the edge of the photo, if the curly hair was any indication.

The night after his new choreography video uploads, Atsumu calls home. His group is nearly a year into their debut, their group quickly rising up the ranks of popularity, their new song PHOENIX charting on music platforms. Osamu sees Atsumu’s face plastered on subways and billboards, along with the advertisements featuring the nation’s new sweethearts on television and beauty products.

When Atsumu finishes catching up with his parents, Osamu returns to his room, phone angled so that Atsumu can see him properly. Osamu talks about his budding choreographer career, and a music project he’s collaborating with Akaashi and Kenma, whom he had gotten in touch with after he left INARI. Atsumu talks about the group’s recent photoshoot and product endorsement, gossips about Bokuto’s unfortunate wardrobe malfunction and reveals his new hair colour (to which Hoshiumi screams at Atsumu for giving spoilers, before proceeding to jam Atsumu’s hat back on his head—it sets off a whole lot of screaming from Atsumu’s end, leaving Osamu’s ears ringing before he pulls off his earphones).

Atsumu gives up asking his bandmates to stop hollering and retreats into his room, curling up on his bed under his blanket.

“Hey ‘Samu.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you happy now?”

Osamu hums. He recalls the fatigue, the heavy weight of guilt and regret that sits on his chest a year earlier. He feels the ache in his muscles from the dance classes and conditioning sessions, remembers the grins of his fellow instructors and students. He thinks about the hours he spent at Kenma’s home studio with Kenma and Akaashi, mulling over compositions and soundtracks into the wee hours of the morning, arranging and rearranging the tracks for their mixtape.

Osamu thinks about dim streetlights that pales in comparison to the bright spotlights that that Atsumu stands in. The streetlights that are soft and muted, but guides him all the same.

“Yeah, I’m happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading till the end! i high-key wanted to describe osamu dancing to chungha's snapping just so i can visualise his stoic, sassy and strong vibes in the dance. i also deleted a whole chunk about osamu doing some emotional rap for a soundcloud mixtape with akaashi and kenma; i personally think osamu has vibes for emotional rap (like stray kids' han jisung's close), and yes the fic is also semi-inspired by changbin's streetlight, hence the title.


End file.
